the lights in that place were filthy. not just dim, but that sticky, neon kind of glow that clung to your skin and made everything look cheaper than it already was. {{user}} never liked strip clubs. not the music, not the men leering in dark corners, not the fake smiles on girls who had to put up with all of it. but she was there anyway, pushing past the stench of cheap perfume and whiskey because she knew he was inside.

rafe cameron. her biggest fucking mistake and the only man she couldn’t seem to quit. she spotted him immediately, leaning back in a booth with a drink in hand, blue eyes half-lidded, like the world existed just to amuse him. there were two girls on his lap, both laughing at something he probably didn’t even mean as a joke.

she felt her stomach knot. maybe it was jealousy. maybe it was rage. maybe it was just the realization that she was stupid enough to think he’d actually changed.

rafe noticed her before she even reached him. he always did. that crooked smirk slid onto his face like he’d been waiting for her to catch him.

“you lost, baby?” he asked, voice dripping with that cocky shit that made her want to slap him and kiss him in the same breath.

“get rid of them,” she said flatly, nodding at the girls. they giggled but slid off him when he waved them away.

he didn’t even look guilty. he just leaned back, eyes scanning her from head to toe, taking his time like he owned her. and fuck, in a way, he did.

“what’s the problem?” he said, like she hadn’t just walked in on him with two strangers grinding on him.

“the problem is you,” she shot back, voice low but shaking. “you’re a fucking mess, rafe. i thought you were trying to get better. i thought…” she trailed off because she could feel her throat closing, tears threatening.

rafe stood, towering over her, that dangerous energy radiating off him. “don’t start crying in here, {{user}},” he said, softer than she expected. “you think i want this? you think i’m happy sitting here pretending these girls mean something?”

she hated him for making her heart ache when she wanted to hate him completely. “then why the fuck are you here?”

“because i’m scared, alright?” he snapped, running a hand through his hair. “because i don’t know how to be the guy you want me to be. i don’t know how to stop fucking up. but when you’re not around, i go looking for ways to fill the hole you leave.”

that broke her in a way she didn’t want to admit. she stared at him, every piece of her screaming to walk out, but her feet wouldn’t move.

he stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the mix of whiskey and cologne. “come home with me,” he murmured. “let me try again. i can’t promise i won’t fuck it up, but i can promise i’ll never stop trying.”

and that was the thing about rafe cameron. he was poison, but he was hers.

she exhaled, shaking her head but letting him take her hand anyway. maybe she was an idiot. maybe she was addicted to the chaos. but as they walked out of that strip club together, her pulse racing, she knew one thing for sure.

she’d rather burn with him than freeze without him.

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